


We can't find the time

by draculard



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Forbidden Love, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: Alexander glances up from his writing one day and sees Angelica standing on the edge of the lake.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57
Collections: It's All in the Name (Take #1)





	We can't find the time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/gifts).



He sees her standing on the edge of the lake when she’s supposed to be overseas. He catches sight of her from his window in the morning, where he’s spent a sleepless night writing, burning candles down into puddles of wax. His eyes are like raw sockets when dawn breaks; he doesn’t look up until he hears the birds begin to sing.

That’s when he sees her. Her back is to him, her hair down — it tumbles over her shoulders, blown back now and then by the morning breeze. She’s not dressed warmly enough for New England; it looks, from where he sits, almost like she’s wearing a nightdress, but that can’t be true.

He glances behind him, through the open door of his study, and sees the door to his bedroom is still closed. Silently, he pushes his chair back from the desk and stands, stretching sore muscles. He extinguishes the candle with his index finger and thumb, puts a round, flat stone over the night’s essays to keep them in place. Ink spatters his hands when he stoppers the bottle.

On his way out, walking on the edges of his feet, he grabs his coat from the hook and throws it over his arm. He’s careful closing the door; it doesn’t creak, it doesn’t slam. It’s absolutely silent.

Outside, mist curls up from the lake and down from the trees, cascading to the lawn. Dew from the grass clings to his trouser cuffs and moisture seeps through the leather of his boots. She doesn’t look back; she doesn’t hear him walking across the grass to her.

Ten yards away, he says, “Angelica?”

She turns. She smiles at him uncertainly. Her brow is furrowed; there’s a question in her eyes.

“Alexander,” she says, and that’s when he realizes her voice is off. That’s when he realizes her hair color is not quite right, that her eyes are too widely-spaced, that her lips don’t quirk the right way when she smiles.

That’s when he realizes it’s Eliza on the edge of the lake.


End file.
